My Ritual
by Sister to the Dark Lord
Summary: Recieving the Dark Mark is the highest honour for Death Eaters. This is how Bellatrix got hers.


My Ritual

_-_-_

I hadn't seen the Dark Lord. Ever. But I had loyally worked my way through his Death Eater ranks, and soon I would be able to call myself Bellatrix Black, elite Death Eater, scrooge of Muggles and Mudbloods.

I shrugged the black hood of my Death Eater robes higher over my head, blocking out the rain that came down in sheets. My polished silver mask glittered as if it was made of diamonds as stray raindrops shattered off of it. Hurrying up the hill in the middle of nowhere, I ducked into the little shack at the top, under the lone pine.

The shack wasn't much, hardly a place that seemed appropriate for a pureblood organization, let alone the all-powerful head. The door and windows were missing, and half the roof had caved in, letting the rain in and create tiny rivers on the dirt floor that I redirected with each step I took. The pieces of the ceiling were piled up were they had fallen, and someone had rearranged them to form a stone throne, probably for Lord Voldemort.

Lord Voldemort.

The name radiated power and made me shiver with anticipation.

Another Death Eater stepped out of the shadows. "Congratulations," he said formally. I recognized his voice as that of my brother-in-law, Lucius. I didn't let on. "You have worked your way through the Dark Lord's ranks. He is impressed with your work. So impressed, in fact, that you shall be the first in five years to be branded by his hand."

I quivered with excitement. Such an honour, and it was mine!

"I will now ask you to give me your wand," said Lucius. I could here the smirk in his voice.

I started. Me minus my wand? I didn't care if we were on the same side, Lucius had a snowball's chance in Hades of getting his grubby paws on my wand!

"I cannot follow through with your request," I replied courteously, but with enough cold rejection that it was clear I was not someone to mess with. "My wand and I are one. If you take away my wand, you take away a part of me. And the Dark Lord would not be pleased if he finds his newest elite missing, at least in part, now would he?"

"No, he would not," said a cold voice from the doorway. I spun around and was faced with an angel, if you believe that sort of thing. Lord Voldemort had straight, jet-black hair, darker then my own, that came down to his earlobes. He had light blue eyes, and an oval face with a pale yet healthy complexion. A large snake was wound loosely around his neck, and he hissed lovingly to it. I threw myself down onto the wet floor at his feet.

"He would not," the Dark Lord repeated. He squatted down beside me, still on my knees with my head bent. "You may not trust Lucius, but do you trust me, my darling Bellatrix?" he whispered. My name was like honey coming from him. "Will you give me your wand?"

I licked my dry lips. "I am your property, my lord, to do with as you please."

He chuckled. "Devotion. I like that. I like that a lot. May I have your wand now, my darling Bellatrix?" His breath ruffled my unruly curls slightly.

Wordlessly, I put my hand in my robes and drew out my wand. I laid it in my lord's outstretched palm. He carried it over to the throne and put it on a small slab of fallen roof gently, as if the fourteen inches of maple and dragon heartstring was made of glass. I didn't move, just listened to the rain pounding on the walls as I watched the Dark Lord move with his exquisite grace. It was a miracle that the walls hadn't caved in already from the merciless torrent.

"Arise, my darling Bellatrix, and follow mine voice." My lord's voice was expressionless and powerful. So much power! My heart fluttered with pleasure as I thought of that power. I stood and turned. Lucius was nowhere to be seen; good, I hated the git. The Dark Lord was sitting on the throne, his hand hovering protectively over my wand. I walked over and my lord stood up and silently gestured for me to sit. I did so.

The Dark Lord took my hand with his cool ones, ignoring my racing heart that was caused by his touch, and placed it in the air above my wand.

He started to chant.

I felt the air hum as my lord's deep, hypnotizing voice filled the room. I watched the air around my hand and wand ripple and dance with power, almost as it does during the incredible heat of midsummer. Slowly, ever so slowly, my wand began to glow, dark light emitting from the wood, pulsing in time to my lord's voice. Tendrils of this dark light wove themselves around my left forearm, the one that was hovering in the air over my wand. A piercing pain shot through my arm, and Lord Voldemort stopped chanting, the dark light disappearing with his voice. It was dead silent, except for the one _drip_ as a drop of blood rolled off my arm and hit my wand, rolling off the top to pool on the stone below it. My blood stained the wood. The Dark Lord moved beside me, leaning over my body to gently draw my left arm towards him. There, burning black, was the Dark Mark in all its glory.

Lord Voldemort smiled.

"Welcome to the Inner Circle, my darling Bellatrix."


End file.
